


A Promise

by yourebrilliant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Humour, Order Member
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourebrilliant/pseuds/yourebrilliant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How long would you wait for someone you loved?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Trying not to pant with effort, Hermione rounded the last curve of the spiral staircase and made her way over to the thick wooden door that led out to the viewing platform surrounding the tower. To her surprise the door opened easily and she stumbled slightly onto the wide stone platform.

Spying a familiar blond head, she made her way forward, tucking a folded piece of parchment into her pocket.

‘Hey there,’ she said easily, ‘I’ve been looking for you.’ This was not entirely true; she had known exactly where he was thanks to the Marauder’s Map and had simply made her way to the tower.

‘Still looking out for me, Granger?’ Draco asked, smiling wryly as he turned from his contemplation of the dusky view beyond.

‘Someone has to,’ she responded genially, moving closer to him and peeking over the edge of the parapet. The air was dead, not a breath of wind drifting across the battlefield beyond, for which she was grateful.

‘I believe there are a number of people volunteering for the job,’ Draco commented, watching with amusement as Hermione blanched at the sight of the distant ground and immediately turned her back on the sight.

‘Not for the same reasons, and you know it,’ she responded sharply, focusing on his pale face to stop herself from peering over the edge again. He looked drawn and unkempt. They all did, she supposed, but on the normally fastidious Draco Malfoy the contrast was more dramatic.

His eyes shuttled towards her, the pale grey of his irises thinned to a fine line as his pupils widened with the fading of the light. He watched her for a moment as she sneaked another glance; Hermione did not like being afraid of anything and was determined to overcome her vertigo. ‘Quite,’ he commented, looking away again as she turned towards him.

‘Draco,’ she said quietly, knowing he was concerned at the number of people – on both sides – who wanted to see him jailed or dead, ‘they don’t know you. We do. We’ll tell them-’

His soft laugh interrupted her earnest declaration. ‘What’s that Muggle saying?’ he asked. Hermione stared at him for a moment, unsure which saying he was referring to. ‘Actions speak louder than words,’ he clarified. ‘They don’t need to know me; they know what I’ve done.’

‘What you’ve _done_?’ Hermione asked, frustrated. ‘You fought to bring down the most evil wizard in magical history. You cut ties with your family to do the right thing! You nearly _died_ so Harry could get just a _chance_ to defeat Voldemort!’

‘I also attempted to murder the most _loved_ wizard in magical history and helped a team of Death Eaters enter the school. I know which actions they’ll “hear”.’

‘What are you going to do, then?’ she asked sharply, fear stirring in her chest. In the last few weeks of the war she’d grown close to Draco and she’d thought the feeling was mutual. Coming up to the tower tonight she’d been hoping to move their relationship onto a less platonic footing. Now it seemed as if Draco was saying...she wasn’t sure what he was saying, actually.

‘Wind’s picking up,’ Draco commented quietly.

Frowning at his seemingly unrelated comment, she turned to face him and gasped at the items resting behind him. Propped against the inner wall of the turret were his fastest broom and a knapsack. She doubted it was for a picnic.

‘You’re leaving?’ she asked quietly. ‘You’re not even going to _try_?’ she added angrily. ‘You’re just going to fly away from-’ she caught herself before she said too much, ‘everything,’ she finished quietly.

Draco still refused to look at her. Turning he picked up his broom and walked back to the parapet edge, ignoring the knapsack swaying gently with his movement. When he reached the stone barrier, then he turned to look at her.  
‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s too soon, there’re too many emotions running high. If I stay now...I’d never escape my actions – good and bad. I need to leave...everything. ‘He sighed at the hurt she tried to hide. ‘If I could...’ he started, ‘if things were different...’ Frustrated by his inability to voice his thoughts, Draco reached out and cupped Hermione’s cheek with one long hand. ‘I felt it too,’ he said quietly. Hermione blushed as she remembered Draco was a skilled Legilimens and she hadn’t been shielding her thoughts.

‘This isn’t goodbye,’ he said fiercely. ‘I promise, I’m coming back.’ Suddenly he leant forward and kissed her passionately. Before she could recover, he had leapt onto the parapet and out into the vast beyond. Gasping as he dropped from sight, Hermione rushed forward in time to see him straddle his broom in mid air, pulling out of his dive just before he hit the ground. As she watched in awe, he sped on into the Forbidden Forest and out of sight.


	2. Chapter 1

‘This isn’t goodbye,’ he said fiercely. ‘I promise, I’m coming back.’

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione wriggled further under her duvet, holding tightly to her dream against the intrusion of another day. Ignoring the buzz of her alarm clock, Hermione clung to the memory of that kiss, the soft touch of his hand against her cheek, the press of his lips against hers, the spicy, smoky smell of him that had failed to register at the time and now haunted her dreams.

When it became clear that she wasn’t going to get back to sleep, she flung an arm at her alarm clock feeling a moment’s satisfaction as the thing fell off her nightstand in an attempt to avoid her. Swinging her legs out of bed, she scooped up her wand in one hand and the overturned alarm clock in the other. Righting the alarm, she tapped it with her wand and called ‘Silencio!’ over the racket it was making. Immediately, it became quiescent. The spindly legs halted their wiggling and retreated into the clock face and the long arms stopped relentlessly battering the bells on top of the clock and drooped down the sides.

Sighing in relief, Hermione set the alarm back on her bedside table and headed for the bathroom.

 

Fifteen minutes later, a fully-,dressed Hermione placed her breakfast dishes in the sink and Flooed to work at the WWBC head office.  
The WWBC was a radio network, primarily news-based, which had its beginnings in the covert newscasts the twins had started during the war. With so many people still in hiding after Voldemort’s defeat, the Ministry had been desperate for a medium to spread the word and found one ready-made. A makeshift studio was quickly constructed in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, and Arthur and George became co-directors and anchormen simultaneously.

When the Ministry no longer needed the station and started to discuss its dissolution, Harry, Hermione, and George had pooled their funds and purchased the station from the Ministry, naming it the Weasley Wizard Broadcasting Corporation for its founding fathers. George - who had shut down Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes after Fred’s death – Harry, and Hermione formed the Board of Directors with Arthur, as a consultant, and various Weasley relatives as shareholders.

Three years after its creation, the WWBC had expanded from its “one station, one show” beginnings into a radio network with WWBC 1 broadcasting news and weather and the recently-formed WWBC 2 broadcasting less serious programmes; Molly Weasley hosted a household hints programme, Lee Jordan continued to enliven the airways with his Quidditch commentaries, and Ginny Weasley trawled the country for new bands and singers for her weekly music show.

Brushing soot from the hem of her robes, Hermione stepped out of her office Floo and set her briefcase on top of her large, meticulously neat desk. She had barely taken her seat when the flames roared in her fireplace and George’s floating head appeared.

‘Hermione?’ he called. She stepped out from her desk. ‘Oh good, you’re in. Come along to the office, would you?’ he asked casually. ‘Got a surprise for you,’ he added impishly, his fiery image winking before he vanished and the flames settled back to their normal level.

 

As usual, George’s office door was open. Not bothering to knock – they never did – Hermione strode into his office, smiling at George, who was positively beaming with mischievous joy from behind his own desk.

‘George, what is-’ Hermione began, halting as George held up his index finger.

‘Just a second, Hermione. As soon as Harry gets here, I’ll put you out of your misery.’

Silently, Hermione raised one slender brow. Aside from Board meetings, the three of them rarely got together in a work capacity. George was their salesman and CEO, Harry managed the actual production of the programmes, and Hermione focused on the future of the company, always looking for places to improve or expand.

Then Harry was swinging through the office door and slinging an arm around Hermione’s shoulders in greeting, and George was closing his office door. Turning back to the other two directors, George smiled and directed his wand at a far corner of the office. ‘Specialis revelio,’ he called, and Hermione gasped as a large wooden crate suddenly appeared in the previously empty corner.

The crate was half as long as Hermione herself, and as wide as her and Harry standing side by side.

‘It came?’ she asked redundantly, already moving towards the far corner.

‘This morning,’ George confirmed. ‘Just as well it was so early or we’d have had the whole building buzzing with rumours.’

‘Well?’ Harry asked. ‘Don’t you want a look at it?’

‘Of course,’ Hermione replied distractedly, ‘I’m just trying to decide on the best spell to open the crate.’

Rolling his eyes, Harry strode forward and angled his wand along the join between two of the panels. ‘Diffindo,’ he stated calmly. There was a quiet cracking sound and a noticeable gap appeared between the two sections.

‘Good idea, Harry,’ George commented, stepping up to the other side and repeating the spell while Harry tackled the top. Finally, Hermione slipped her wand into the gap at the top and, carefully angling her wand away from the contents, cast the final Diffindo.

She stepped out of the way as Harry and George carefully locomotored the front panel to one side and then the three of them stepped up to take in the contents of the crate.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long would you wait for someone you loved?

‘Nicely done,’ Harry commented after a moment.

‘Very neat,’ George added. Both of them turned to Hermione, who was smiling happily.

‘It’s wonderful!’ she smiled. ‘Very authentic,’ she added.

Sitting in the crate was, what appeared to be, a large screen TV. Which was exactly what it was. But this TV was the result of months of research and development. A TV, which didn’t need electricity, and could received Muggle and magical programmes. It was one of Hermione’s projects for expanding the corporation. If the TV worked, WWBC could offer TV channels as well as their radio stations.

‘Where do you want to set it up?’ George asked. ‘Looks like it came with instructions,’ he added, lifting a white booklet from the top of the TV.

‘Not here,’ Hermione said, thoughtfully. ‘We don’t want anyone to know about this until we’re sure it works. ‘

‘Why don’t we set it up at yours?’ Harry asked. ‘Then you can spend as long as you want on it without raising suspicion.’

Hermione considered his suggestion. ‘Good idea, Harry,’ she concluded.

 

‘Bloody hell, Hermione, how many NEWTs do you need to work this thing?’ Ron asked, peering from the instructions to the TV with undisguised fear.

‘None, once it’s set up,’ Hermione responded, blowing hair out of her eyes and taking the instructions back from her flame-haired friend.

‘Heavy thing, very heavy thing,’ Harry grunted, emerging from behind the TV with an odd black box in his arms.

‘I’ll help,’ Ron said, lifting his wand. ‘Wing-’ he started, before Hermione clamped a hand over his mouth.

‘No magic,’ Hermione said intensely.

‘Whah noh?’ Ron mumbled behind Hermione’s hand.

‘Because we’re not sure how the system works with other spells,’ Hermione clarified, removing her hand. ‘We don’t even know if it works at all. I’m not bringing outside influences into the situation.’

‘Heavy thing still heavy,’ Harry commented, looking over from where he was bracing himself against Hermione’s fireplace. Ron crossed the room to help lift the box manually.

‘Okay,’ Hermione said, looking back at the complex instructions sent with the set by the R&D team. They really would need to simplify this before the sets could be sold to the wizarding public. ‘The receiver unit – what Harry’s holding,’ she clarified, ‘has to be directly opposite the TV and near to at least one window.’

‘We could set it on that bookcase,’ Ron suggested, gesturing to the large cherry wood shelves behind Hermione.

‘And mount the TV above the fireplace,’ Harry added. ‘Good plan. Hermione?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure about the effect of the heat from the fire, not to mention loose Floo dust,’ she started. Harry and Ron exchanged long suffering glances.

‘So you would suggest?’ Ron asked, pale eyebrows raised.

‘No, you’re right,’ Hermione conceded. Ron beamed as he did any time he got something right and he and Harry carefully carted the unit over to the bookcase, while Hermione shuffled the contents to clear enough space for the small box.

 

‘And...we’re done!’ Harry declared, hours later, as he and Ron stepped back from the TV and waited to make sure it wouldn’t fall from the wall.

‘Great,’ Hermione said. ‘Now we just need to tune the channels.’

Ron groaned. ‘I’m ordering take away,’ he declared, rubbing his back as he grabbed Floo dust from the small pot above the fireplace and threw it at the flames.

‘Wait for me,’ Harry called, following him through.

Hermione rolled her eyes and slumped onto her sofa to peruse the next set of instructions.

 

Thirty minutes later, Hermione had reached the end of the instructions just as Ron and Harry reappeared with dinner floating out of the fire behind them.

‘Got enough food?’ Hermione asked, watching amusedly as carton after carton floated in their wake.

‘Hey, we’ve been hefting dirty great black boxes all day,’ Ron responded, a pumpkin pasty already halfway to his mouth.

‘Plate, Ron,’ Hermione called automatically.

Ron rolled his eyes and accioed a plate.

‘How goes the channel tuning?’ Harry asked, munching absently on a piece of roast chicken.

‘Done,’ Hermione said. Swishing her wand, Hermione said, ‘Finite Incantatem,’ and flicked her wand once at the TV. There was a sudden burst of sound and colour as a channel came through.

‘Awesome,’ Harry grinned.

‘Woah,’ Ron muttered, entering the room with a plate piled high with food. ‘Very awesome.’

‘How does it work?’ Harry asked. Hermione demonstrated the wand flick, repeating the gesture until Harry had it down, before heading off to the kitchen to make herself a plate. Ron and Harry settled themselves on the couch and began flicking through the channels. ‘Hey, there’s a game on,’ Harry called. Leaning through the open doorway, Hermione saw Harry put his wand to one side as a football game appeared. Rolling her eyes, she decided to check the other channels another day.

 

‘This isn’t goodbye,’ he said fiercely. ‘I promise, I’m coming back.’

Anytime soon? Hermione wondered, as she opened her eyes onto another Malfoy-free day. Surely five years was enough time for him to escape his actions. Legally, she knew he had nothing to fear, Harry had been very vocal about Malfoy’s loyalties and the Ministry had exonerated him from all his actions and declared him a war hero. Does he know? she mused as she brushed her teeth. Wherever he is. I hope he knows. I hope he comes back. She sighed deeply.

Making her way through the living room, she flicked on the TV as she passed, changing to a new channel again. This one seemed to be a music channel, as she headed through to the kitchen she heard an announcer say, ‘And now our top tip for a new hit. If you’ve been anywhere near a radio this week you’ll be able to sing along with this one.’ A bouncy beat followed the announcer’s words and Hermione nodded along with the tune as she prepared her cereal. As she re-entered the room she caught some of the words.

‘...you’re the only one I’m dreamin’ of, you see. I can be myself now finally. In fact, there’s nothing I can’t be. I want the world to see you’ll be with me.’

The song continued, but Hermione was deaf to the words, stunned by the image in front of her. Her fingers grew numb and her cereal bowl slipped unnoticed from her grasp as she gaped at the singer on the TV.

Blonde, intense, unreasonably sexy. Yep, that was Draco Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long would you wait for someone you loved?

It was the work of minutes to arrange to work from home “testing” the new TV set up, but two hours later, Hermione was still pacing in front of the TV, worrying her lower lip. Except when Draco Malfoy – correction Drake Lefoy – was singing out of the wide screen. They played Draco’s video three times and each time, she was transfixed, frozen at the sight of his intense gaze, mesmerised by his soft voice. She’d had no idea he could sing - or play guitar - but here he was doing both.

‘Your lipstick stains, on the front lobe of my left side brains.’ Oh good, they were playing it again, ‘I knew I wouldn’t forget you and so I went and let you blow my mind...’

As much as she wanted to be angry at him – swanning about becoming a famous singer while she waited behind clinging to his last words – there was something in his eyes, a barely concealed pain, and as she learned the words to his song, she became convinced it was about her, to her.

‘Your sweet moonbeam, the smell of you in every single dream I dream. I knew when we collided; you’re the one I have decided is one of my kind...’

She had to admire him. If there was one place no one would expect to find Draco Malfoy, it was in the Muggle world. She had to see him. But how? If he was half as popular as his song she’d never get anywhere near him. Unless...

Grabbing her WWBC security card, Hermione strode out of the house, letting the door fall shut behind her.

 

Five hours later, Hermione was getting extremely tired of power-crazy receptionists. She’d had to track all over Muggle London trying to find out who Draco’s recording company was and now their condescending receptionist was refusing to even pass on a message.

‘Look,’ Hermione said, breathing deeply to stop herself turning the girl into a toad and simply walking past her, ‘this is my station security pass. I work for a television company. I just want to leave a message to invite Mr Lefoy for an interview on our weekly music show.’

She had hoped to speak to Draco directly, face-to-face preferably, but the receptionist had informed her that she couldn’t see Draco. Or phone him. Or, apparently, ask him to phone her.

The receptionist looked her up and down and Hermione was aware that she was not looking her most professional. ‘It is against the policy of the company to accept personal messages for our artists-’

‘But it’s not a personal message,’ Hermione interrupted, ‘it’s a professional message from a broadcasting company.’

‘All public appearances must be cleared by Mr Lefoy’s agent,’ the receptionist reported.

‘Then may I leave a message for him?’ Hermione asked tiredly.

Suddenly there was a commotion at one of the inner doors. Two men exited, obviously in disagreement, followed by a very strong, intimidating man who was, presumably a bodyguard. Then the taller of the two men moved and his companion became suddenly, shockingly visible.

‘Mr Lefoy,’ Hermione called, suddenly finding her voice just as the men were about to pass out of sight. The agent and bodyguard turned immediately, but it seemed to take Draco a few steps to remember his pseudonym.

‘Mr Lefoy, may I speak with you?’ She could see him stop. See him turn and look at her, a flash of joy lighting his face before he schooled his features.

‘Excuse me, Miss...?’ Draco’s agent had stepped in front of him, Hermione almost rolled her eyes at the paranoid security. If they only knew what he had faced in the past.

‘Granger,’ she responded brusquely. ‘Hermione Granger, WWBC. We’re an up and coming broadcasting network and we’d like to arrange an interview with Mr Lefoy for our weekly music spot.’

The agent smiled patronisingly. ‘Miss Granger,’ he began, ‘Mr Lefoy is a very busy man-’

‘I’ll do it.’ Draco’s voice reverberated in the open lobby.

The agent turned back to him. ‘Drake,’ he said with grating familiarity, ‘you’re a hit. You can do better than some...tin shed outfit-’

Draco made a decisive slicing motion with his hand, and his agent halted. ‘Today’s small network could be tomorrow’s media empire,’ he retorted. ‘It won’t do any harm to do an interview.’ As he spoke, his eyes sought hers over the taller man’s shoulder. He nodded minimally and she took the hint.

‘My card,’ she said, handing it directly to Draco and trying to cover the word “Wizard” with her thumb. ‘I hope to hear from you soon.’

 

Two days passed before she heard from him. Two days where she drifted through work and used every cleaning spell she could think of to get the cereal stain from her floor. Two days when everything she did had a mental soundtrack.

The way you can cut a rug,  
Watching you’s the only drug I need...

And then, three days after she had handed him her card, she heard his voice. His real voice, not his whispered promise or liquid croon. ‘So you really do work here.’  
She froze in her seat. ‘Yes,’ she croaked when she found her voice again. ‘Although, I don’t generally arrange interviews.’ He was standing at the door wearing muggle clothes, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his black jeans as he looked curiously at the paraphernalia of her office.

He smiled quietly. ‘It didn’t really seem your style,’ he commented. ‘Not that you couldn’t do it,’ he added quickly, ‘but, you know...’ he tailed off and turned away. After a moment he muttered, ‘Bugger,’ before he turned back to her.

‘So,’ she said brightly, ‘your interview.’ Now that he was here, she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t ask why he had stayed away for so long, whether he had ever intended to return. Whether he felt the same as he had five years ago. The same as she did now.

‘Uh, right,’ he said, looking confused.

‘I’ve got some sample questions,’ she continued, looking down at her desk to avoid his eyes.

She thought she saw one pale blonde eyebrow shoot up, but he took a seat in front of her desk without comment.

‘So, Drake,’ she said, smiling at him professionally, without looking directly at him, ‘you’ve just released your first hit single. How does that feel?’

‘Well,’ Draco responded cautiously, ‘obviously it’s great to hear that people enjoy my music but I’m not really interested in sales figures.’

‘You play the guitar on your record, is that common in your music?’

Draco coughed. ‘Yes,’ he responded, ‘I started out with just a guitar for accompaniment so all of my songs have my guitar in there somewhere.’  
‘How did you get into the music industry?’ Hermione asked tightly. ‘Was that always your goal?’

‘Hermione,’ he began, sighing when he saw she wasn’t listening. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I didn’t intend to get involved with anything like this. I had just gone through a difficult time and I used music to deal with my feelings about that.’  
She could feel her professionalism crumbling. Could it be true? He’d been hiding out, healing, and been swept up into this crazy world.

‘You’ve been away from home for a while now,’ she said, ignoring the fact that a radio interviewer probably wouldn’t know this. ‘Were you intending to return, ever?’

‘I was, actually,’ Draco responded, his tone becoming belligerent. ‘I was about to return when my flatmate submitted a recording of my song to a record company and all hell broke loose.’

Hermione was biting the inside of her cheek to keep her expression calm. He’d wanted to come back! To her?

‘Your song is about a woman, is that correct?’

‘It is.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stand.

‘Anyone special?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘she’s the girl I left behind and she’s very special indeed. Strong-willed,’ Hermione gasped in indignation, trying to avoid the way he was now moving around the desk, ‘opinionated, determined.’ With two swift steps, he had her blocked into a corner of her office. ‘And unbelievably insecure,’ he added with exasperation.

‘Can you blame me?’ she asked sharply. ‘You just disappeared! For years. With no word. For all I knew you were dead,’ she could feel tears filling her eyes as she voiced the fears that had worn at her for years. ‘Trapped somewhere by old enemies. I didn’t know when you were coming back. If you were coming back.’

‘Shh,’ he said, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. ‘I promised, didn’t I? I promised I’d come back and here I am. A little later than I intended, and for that I’m truly sorry, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.’ Leaning close, he cupped her cheek and kissed her deeply, just as she’d remembered and so much more. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pulled him close, proving to herself that he really was there, kissing her.

‘I hope all your interviews aren’t like this,’ she whispered, when he pulled away.  
He laughed. ‘No, this one is quite special.’


End file.
